


Unpromised

by Red1Gold1



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bully Flash Thompson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Skip Westcott, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red1Gold1/pseuds/Red1Gold1
Summary: It takes a lot of energy for Peter Parker to keep up his Spiderman patrols, balanced with schoolwork, balanced with his social life, balanced with his home life... But lately, Peter has been spending most of his energy on just desperately trying not to disappoint everybody around him._____________________Just some classic Peter Parker whump, because I need to project my issues onto a fictional character somehow *insert shrug*I promise all of your Irondad & Spiderson angsty needs will be fulfilled later in the fic!![TRIGGER WARNING, please read tags] [cross-posted on Wattpad]
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	Unpromised

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, reader!
> 
> So this story starts with mild hurt Peter Parker, but it will develop into a major mess of angsty whumpy feels. Enjoy!
> 
> No major TW's for this chapter.

"Peter, it is currently 7 minutes until your curfew, and you are approximately 11 minutes away from the apartment," Karen alerted him, at the most inopportune time. In his rush, Peter had nearly missed his webbing, and he had to catch himself with an unsteady second swing. "Would you like me to navigate you home?"

It was already 10:53pm? Oh, he was in so much trouble.

"Not now, Karen! I'm chasing the bad guy!" Peter replied, a little out of breath and with a lot of desperation in his voice.

Peter swung his way down the busy night streets, building-to-building, barely taking in the beeping of traffic and the pointing of fingers his way from those that were out this late. He was too focused on keeping up with the shadowed figure that was running and ducking ahead of him. Too far ahead of him, he thought.

He aimed his webbing at lower points of contact, trying to speed up somehow, to get closer to the on-foot escapee. A second-story balcony – swing – a street lamppost – swing – a jutting billboard – swing. He noticed the upcoming pedestrian bridge over the street, and when he was close enough, he shot two webs simultaneously at the sides. As soon as they landed, he pulled tightly, swinging forward quickly under the bridge.

The runner took a sharp left into an alleyway. "Shit," Peter muttered, aiming high on the corner of the tall office building beside him, swinging wide.

"Karen, web nets!" Spiderman instructed his suit-lady. Coming around the corner into the alleyway, he aimed down at the flash of long blonde hair and all-black outfit. The figure shrieked, the web net enveloped her, and Peter landed on his feet. He didn't miss a beat before walking towards her, making landing and walking look like one single movement.

"Hey, so I'm not sure if you noticed, but you kind of bumped into a couple of cars back there," Peter started, pointing back with his thumb over his shoulder. 'Bumped into' was an understatement. So was 'a couple'. The entire 14-vehicle long traffic queue on Maryland St had been scraped, scratched, dented and otherwise by the unstopping black Mercedes the women had been driving.

Now, she was on her arms and knees, crouched over in a way that looked incredibly uncomfortable. She was restrained by webbing pressed firmly to her back and around the ground close to her. Stuck.

"Now, I have my own form of transport, obviously," Spiderman said, shooting a small string of web into the air for effect, "So I guess I don't totally understand what the protocol is for wrecking an entire street of cars..."

He was only a couple of feet from her now, so he stopped and rested his hands on his hips.

"...But I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to, you know, run."

Peter waited for a response. He didn't get one. All he could hear was her heavy breathing, and it just sounded like frustration. He circled around to try and see her face.

"They call it a hit-and-run," he started to explain, like he was talking to a toddler. He crouched down. "Or in your case, a hit-and-hit-and-hit-and-hit-and-hit-and-hit-and..."

Spiderman was too distracted by counting on his fingers to see what she was doing. He smelled it first.

It smelled like burnt rubber and a chemical experiment gone wrong. He looked up, his voice trailing off and eyes going wide.

The webbing that had been holding her was burning off. Wherever it touched her, it was melting, disintegrating. It was changing from its normal translucent white, to a burning orange red, to a patchy, ashy black, and then to dust.

Spiderman's mask portrayed Peter's look of complete surprise. And it stayed that way – even when Peter's face became a fearful one – a façade he was thankful for.

He was scattering back, hands behind him, like crawling upside-down. She was standing to her feet.

Oh, thought Peter, that's probably a good idea.

He scrambled to a stand. She slowly started walking towards him. Her face was tilted down, and he couldn't see much more than just anger on her face through the wispy blonde hair in front of it.

He shot a series of webs at her hands, trying to bind her. He shot at her feet, trying to trip her, then her knees, trying to unbalance her. It didn't matter – the webbing appeared to fry on contact. There was a small hiss for every strand that disappeared as soon as it touched her. She continued walking towards him. He continued pacing backwards.

"Karen, paintball web," instructed Spiderman. It was a setting where the webbing balled together tightly and splatted on impact. He hoped that the force of the web – he knew it packed a punch – would stumble her, at least, before she dissolved it. He shot at the woman's belly, and at her face, with as much force as he could muster in the throw. She faltered, slightly, but not enough.

"Karen, shower web!" Spiderman said, not focused enough on what he sounded like to hide the high-pitched panic in his voice. He shot one more paintball web from his right wrist shooter, then shot from his left, which exploded in several strands like silly string.

He did the same with his right wrist now, trying to cover the woman in webs faster than she could burn them. It was working, in a way. But Peter knew it wasn't a permanent solution. It was just buying him some time while he scrambled to think what to do next.

Peter hadn't known before the chase that this was way above his friendly-neighbourhood-Spiderman-paygrade. He would still have gone after her, of course, but his innocence in the matter stood. It seemed like a simple catch-and-call: his typical style, where he'd web the criminal and phone the police to report the wrongdoing and location.

How was he to know she'd be able to burn through his webs? That the one defence he knew – the one thing he was best at – was useless against her? This was more than playing catch-the-criminal. It had quickly become catch-the-criminal-superhuman-who-is-resistant-to-your-greatest-strength.

I could use my physical strength... Peter thought. But how do I know that touching her won't burn me like she burns the webs?

Then two things happened at once, and Peter knew he'd run out of time before using any of it to really come up with a plan. The first was that his back hit the dead-end wall of the alleyway. The second was that his right web shooter ran out of web fluid. He knew that having only the one shower-web firing would not be enough to keep the burning woman buried for long.

Peter looked side to side for something, anything, to hit her with, so that he wouldn't have to make any contact with her. He thought about aiming for her clothes. He wondered if it would make any difference. Probably not, he realised, her clothes are burning the web away too.

He had about two seconds, he estimated, to decide, before she was free of the webs altogether. In a panic, he shot for the rooftop with his working web shooter, and lifted himself high enough to...

She was free. He kicked her square in the face – not without a little momentum from the swing – when-

"Holy sh..." Peter's expletives quickly morphed into a part-groan, part-scream of pain. It burns. It burns.

Her hands were around the ankle of the leg he had kicked with. It wasn't just the webs that glowed and burned when she touched them. His suit glowed under her hold, melting in the shape of her handprint, burning marks into his skin.

It felt like fire. He was caught on an awkward angle, holding desperately onto his web, and being pulled frantically down towards the burning woman by her glowing hands.

"Come on, Spider-boy..." she taunted, her rough voice surprising Peter. It was the first time he had heard her speak. He briefly wondered how she could sound so cold when she was really anything but.

He thrashed and kicked and in the back of his mind, he could hear whining and yelping. In a moment of clarity, caused by her readjusting her grip and relieving him of the agony for just a second, it occurred to him that the pained sounds were his own.

She was saying something else now, but he wasn't hearing it. He wasn't hearing anything but panic and pain and-

Spiderman swung back and hit the wall when she let go, nearly falling from the web. It wouldn't have been a far fall, but landing on his ankle in such a state would have been unimaginably painful. He was glad that he managed to catch himself. He was glad his ankle was no longer burning under her touch.

He was glad for the three police officers at the entrance of the alleyway, illuminated by the flashing blue and red of the emergency vehicle behind them. They were pointing their guns at the woman, shouting instructions. They had her.

Peter didn't give it another thought before he gripped the web with his right hand and shot another with his left. He fled – ungracefully and awkwardly, with only one web shooter – but it was better than walking.

_

It was 12:23am when Peter got home. He'd stopped a few times to check on his leg. He could put weight on it, but not without feeling it.

He wasn't confident enough to try the window of his room in his state, and he knew it wouldn't do any good anyway. May would be waiting up for him.

He unlocked the door with shaky hands. He didn't know if the shakes were from the adrenaline after the night he'd just had, or from the anxiety of the conversation he was about to have.

The door swung open from the other side, giving Peter even less time to prepare himself. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his suit to come home. It was darkened from the smoke in the alley anyway, so he didn't think anyone would recognize him. He also didn't think he had the energy to care if they did.

Aunt May was angry. Peter knew she would be, but her face confirmed it. Her crossed arms confirmed it. Her wordless gesture for Peter to get inside confirmed it.

He hardly waited for the door to close before beginning his apologies. "I'm sorry," Peter blurted out, arms up in front of him like he was surrendering. He kind of was. "I got caught up in something at just the wrong time and I wanted to call but I-"

"You got caught up?" May questioned, her emotion evident on her tongue. She cleared her throat and looked sideways for a second, holding a pointed index finger in front of her as if to say 'wait'. "Spiderman, you don't get caught up. You do the catching. You do the- whatever it is you do, you do that, without getting involved or messed up in stuff."

Peter pulled off the mask, trying to show that he was sorry with his face, because May wasn't giving him the chance to say it with his words.

"This can't happen, Peter. It can't." She was still using her hands to punctuate her words. "Do you have any idea how scary this is for me? To know you're out there, to know you're doing... this," she gestured to the mask in his hands, "But not knowing if you're okay? It's terrifying, Peter. And then you don't come back at 11pm, or 11:30pm, or-"

"I'm so sorry, Aunt May. Please," Peter interrupted, walking towards her (and trying not to limp too much). "I'm sorry." He was desperate to get to the part of the conversation where she really looked at him, where she hugged him, where she said she was 'just happy he was safe'. And he was desperate to get to the part where she noticed his right leg, now throbbing and bleeding from the blistering, and helped him clean the wounds.

But it didn't come. Her eyes weren't on him long enough for her to even notice his leg. He'd really disappointed her this time, he realised. May walked towards him, barely making eye contact. They were facing opposite ways – Peter facing where she had been standing, turned to the front door, and May facing the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Peter wasn't even sure if she was going to stop as she passed him.

She did, but only to say in Peter's ear, "I need you back here by 11pm, because then I know you're safe." Her voice was quiet, though it was anything but calm. "Because then, I'm not terrified that you're out there, in trouble or hurt or in danger. So, when you choose to get caught up in stuff like that," emotion was setting into her voice now, and it broke Peter even more, "then just know – you're choosing them over me. And that hurts, Peter. It hurts."

And with that, Peter was left standing in the living room, leaning almost completely on his left leg now. He wasn't sure what hurt more, really – the burns, or the sinking feeling that he was a disappointment to the one person he loved the most.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there it is - the beginning of a very big mess of words, about a very sad mess of a Peter Parker.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, where Peter goes on disappointing people despite all his efforts not to, + Mr. Stark enters the story!
> 
> Comment, kudos, you know what to do.


End file.
